


Directional Stability

by SuburbanSun



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, Awkward Flirting, F/M, First Meetings, Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-11 10:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3324725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons met at Academy orientation, they barely spoke to each other.</p><p>But that wasn't the first time they met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Directional Stability

**Author's Note:**

> Written for blacklolitarose on Tumblr for the Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine exchange! Her prompt was “the first time Leo Fitz met Jemma Simmons.”

**_Directional Stability:_ ** _The ability of a moving body to maintain its course while subject to directionally disturbing influences._

\---

 

Leo Fitz was bloody starving.

He’d scrambled to get to the airport on time after the alarm clock in his London hotel room hadn’t gone off properly (he refused to acknowledge the idea that he might have forgotten to set it the night prior). That had left no time for lunch. Even now, as he barrelled through the international terminal, wheeling a small carryon suitcase behind him with his coat over his arm, he wasn’t sure if he would make it on time, and then his mum would never let him hear the end of it.

He dodged a cadre of slow-moving little old ladies, nearly clipping one of them with his suitcase. Tossing an apologetic glance over his shoulder, he sped up his pace, determined to get to the gate before it closed.

Just three gates to go. Two gates. One gate. He passed them in a blur, eyes fixed on the sign for B13.

Then finally, he was there-- and so were dozens of other people, in various lounging positions across the waiting area. No one rushed to board the plane. His eyes were drawn to the television screen mounted above the gate desk and he suddenly felt relieved and incredibly annoyed all at once.

“British Airways Flight 213 LHR-BOS: DELAYED.”

His stomach growled. He scowled at the thought that he would have had plenty of time to stop off at the chip shop after all.

He approached the desk, where an older blonde flight attendant smiled absently while typing something into the computer.

“‘Scuse me. Would you mind telling me how long we’ll be delayed?”

She gave him a look he was familiar with getting from older women. The “aren’t you adorable” look. He wasn’t adorable, or precious, or any other adjective they chose to call him. He was 17, about to be 18 in fact, and already had a PhD under his belt. He wondered if they’d ever stop looking at him like a child.

“It won’t be long, deary. Just have a seat and we’ll let you know.”

He nodded, muttering “Thanks,” even though she’d given him little actual information. Unsure if he’d have time to pop over to a restaurant for some mediocre airport fish and chips, he scanned the seating area for an open chair.

The only one he could spot that wasn’t beside an overly large man or an unruly child was next to the plate glass windows that overlooked the runway, beside a pretty brunette girl who looked to be about his age. He hesitated-- he didn’t have a lot of experience talking to pretty girls, and what little he did have had not worked out in his favor-- but glanced over at the fat man who had begun to cough thickly. Fitz shuddered. He’d take his chances with the brunette.

“Is this seat taken?”

She looked up from the book in her lap, smiling politely, and he was taken aback for a moment because wow, she really was beautiful. “No, it’s all yours,” she said, pulling her bag closer to her knees where it rested on the carpeted floor.

He sank into the black plastic seat, pulling his suitcase in front of his own knees and laying his coat across his lap. She flashed him another smile and returned to her book. He wondered if he'd thought to pack a book of his own in his carryon. His stomach rumbled again.

Just then, the blonde flight attendant picked up her microphone to make an announcement. Fitz’s ears perked up. Maybe he’d be snacking on airplane food shortly, which was better than nothing.

“Attention, passengers on British Airways Flight 213 from London to Boston. We’re sorry to report that we must delay today’s flight once again due to mechanical troubles,” she announced in a cheerful tone despite the grumbles of disappointed passengers. “Our team is working hard to correct the issue, and we should be able to begin boarding in approximately one hour. Thank you for your patience.”

A sigh to Fitz’s right made him glance over at the girl. She had set her book facedown in her lap so he couldn’t get a look at the title, and her brows knitted together. She fidgeted in her seat, leaning forward to look to her right, then to her left, up and down the terminal corridor.

“Is something wrong?” he asked before he could stop himself. She looked at him with a smile like a grimace that somehow still made his heart beat a little faster, and shook her head.

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s just--I’ve had to use the restroom for  _ages_.” She looked down as if embarrassed to admit this to a perfect stranger. “I thought we might board the plane any second, so I didn’t want to leave to find one and miss it, and then I thought surely I could hold it until I could use the plane’s bathrooms, but now who  _knows_ when that will be…”

He watched her face as she rambled animatedly. None of the conversations he’d had with girls had centered around their bathroom habits. It somehow made him feel more at ease. “Would you like me to watch your stuff while you go find one?”

“Could you?” She looked at him gratefully, standing up and setting her book down in her seat. “You don’t think they’ll call us up while I’m gone?”

“Not unless it takes you an hour to go to the bathroom,” he said, then made a face, wishing he could bite the awkward words back into his mouth. She didn’t seem to notice, though, just smiling at him as she backed away.

“I’ll be  _right_ back. Thank you so much!” She turned then, hurrying down the terminal.

Fitz tapped his fingers on the armrests, surveying the waiting area and ignoring another stomach growl. His glance landed on her book, face down in her seat, and he picked it up to take a look. His eyes widened as he read the title. “A Primate’s Memoir: A Neuroscientist’s Unconventional Life Among the Baboons” by Robert M. Sapolsky.

He was flipping eagerly through the pages of the book when she returned from the restroom.

“Thank you  _so_ much. I feel much better now,” she said, taking her seat. He dragged his gaze from the book to her, eyes still wide.

“You’re reading about monkeys.”

She took the book from his hands, clutching it to her as if she thought he was poking fun. “Baboons, to be exact.  _Papio anubis_.”

“Yeah, I see that. I of all people would know what a baboon is.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Why? Do you work with them or something?”

“No, I just…” He winced, knowing how unimpressive his answer would sound. “Really, really like ‘em.” His PhD was in mechanical engineering, not primatology, though he had to admit that he’d considered it.

She just smiled, though, seeming unfazed by how lame he’d sounded. “They are fascinating creatures, aren’t they?” He nodded quickly and emphatically. Fascinating was an understatement, if you asked him.

“My name’s Jemma,” she began, tucking her book in her bag and offering her hand to him. He shook it, thinking about how she looked like a Jemma. It was a pretty name, and it suited her. After a moment, he realized he’d been shaking her hand for just a shade too long, and dropped it.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Fitz.”

“Fitz? That’s an interesting name.”

“It’s my surname, actually. Nobody calls me by my first name, though.”

“Then Fitz it is,” she said, grinning as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. They sat there, smiling at each other, and his stomach choose that precise moment to let out a particularly noisy growl. She chuckled. “Hungry?”

His hand came up to rub at the back of his neck. “A bit peckish, yeah.”

She looked at him, considering, then reached down and unzipped the largest pocket of her bag. When she straightened, she was holding a sandwich wrapped in neat cellophane, with a small scrap of notepaper taped to the outside with “JEMMA” written in tidy block letters.

“My mum made this for the trip. She knows I hate airplane food. But it’s enormous, and I don’t need the whole thing. Want half?”

He thought about it for a moment. His mum had always told him not to accept food from strangers, and she was technically a stranger, but he  _did_ know her name, and that she had a healthy appreciation for monkeys. The sandwich was probably safe.

“Sure, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all.” She unwrapped the cellophane, pulling out half of the sandwich and passing it to him. Just before he took it, she drew her hand back. “It’s prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella. And it’s got a hint of pesto aioli. You aren’t a vegetarian, or allergic or anything, are you?”

“No. That sounds delicious,” he said appreciatively, finally taking the proffered sandwich.

“It is. It’s even better when I make it, though my mum really does try.” She took a small bite, chewing completely and swallowing before continuing to speak. “Her ratio of pesto to mayonnaise just isn’t  _quite_ perfect.”

Fitz dug into the sandwich, and was happy to discover that it was indeed delicious. He wanted to politely eat it in small, neat bites the way she was, but he was too famished. He’d swallowed the last bite and was licking a bit of aioli from his thumb in no time.

“How was it?” she asked, only halfway finished with her portion. She looked almost hesitant.

“It was delicious,” he said solemnly. She grinned, taking another bite. Soon she was balling up the cellophane and standing to toss it into a nearby trashcan. Just as she took her seat, the blonde flight attendant made another announcement.

“Attention passengers on British Airways Flight 213 London to Boston, I’m sorry to say that the delay has been extended. We hope to begin boarding at 1:15. Thank you for your patience.”

Jemma bit her lip. “1:15… that’s an hour and a half from now.”

“Yeah, I’m beginning not to like her,” Fitz muttered, setting his hands on his knees. He turned his attention back to Jemma. “Are you...are you in a hurry to get to Boston?”

“Not a hurry, precisely. Just… eager.” A smile played at her lips, and he surprised himself by asking another question. This was the most easily he’d ever talked to a girl close to his age, and while he still felt a bit tentative and shy, something urged him to continue the conversation.

“What’re you doing there? Visiting?”

“Um… no.” She furrowed her brow. “Moving there, actually. For school.”

That made two of them. Fitz wondered where she would be attending. From the looks of her, she’d be starting undergrad. Maybe Boston University, or even Harvard. She seemed like an intelligent girl. “What school?” he asked.

“What about you?” she asked at the same time. They both laughed gently, and when it didn’t seem like she intended to answer his question, he spoke up.

“Moving there too. Got an excellent, uh… career opportunity, so. Yeah.” He’d been warned by Agent McIntosh at the London S.H.I.E.L.D. office, where he’d filled out the last-minute paperwork that had required him to fly to the U.S. by way of England, that he wasn’t to tell anyone who didn’t have Level One clearance that he’d been accepted to the Academy. Or about the Academy in general. He hadn’t had much time to consider an adequate cover story.

Thankfully, she seemed to have accepted his half-hearted answer and moved on.

“Tea! Would you like some tea? Now that we have more time, I thought perhaps we could go get some tea.”

He wondered why her words were a little rushed, and why she seemed to be so eager to change the subject from their futures in Boston. Maybe she wasn’t as excited about starting university as he was about starting at S.H.I.E.L.D.’s SciTech division. Regardless, tea sounded nice.

 

 

 

The little airport cafe wasn’t anything special, but it would do. Fitz and Jemma carried their bags with them, ordering at the counter before finding a small round table to sit at while they waited for the barista to call their names.

“So you’re from Scotland, aren’t you?” Fitz nodded. “Would you believe I’ve actually never been? I’ve heard it’s lovely, though. What part?”

“Glasgow.”

“I assume your family is still there? Aren’t they going to miss you?”

“Fitz!” called out the bored-looking barista. Fitz stood to pick up his tea. The barista called Jemma’s name while he was at the counter, so he collected hers as well. He set both steaming beverages carefully on the table before sitting back down and answering.

“It’s just me and my mum. And I’ve actually been living in the states for a few years now, at school.” He blew on his tea, taking a hesitant sip. “I spent the summer at home before moving back for-- for that career opportunity.”

She stirred her tea thoughtfully. “You look so young, though.” He must have looked offended, because she immediately backtracked. “Not like-- I just mean, you look young to have already lived on your own for years. How old  _are_ you, anyway?”

Fitz straightened in his seat. “Seventeen. But I turn 18 in just a couple weeks. On August 19.”

“Oh, same as me! Well, my birthday is in September, but we’re the same age.” She grinned at him and took a careful, delicate sip of her tea.

So she was 17, too. It struck Fitz as strange how he could be the exact same age as this girl, and yet in such a different stage of life. She was preparing for her first year of uni, and he’d already earned a doctorate and was about to begin training with fellow cadets nearly 10 years his senior. For a moment, he wished that he wasn’t an engineering prodigy. That his schooling hadn’t been accelerated. That he was sitting here with a pretty girl his own age, about to start university and excited about what the future held.

Or maybe he just wished she too was a prodigy, just as smart as he was, one of the youngest recruits in S.H.I.E.L.D. history. He’d hate to give up his own intelligence, after all.

The thought was fleeting. They were different, and Fitz wondered if that’s why it felt easy to talk to her-- if the fact that he was so far ahead of her in schooling made him feel older even as they were the same age.

“Ugh, this tea is just terrible,” she said, scowling into her cup.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll never get used to airport tea.”

“It’s so weak!” She finished her cup anyway, setting it down. He drained his, too.

“Shall we go back to the gate?”

“Do you mind if we pop into the newsstand next door first? I’m afraid I’ll finish my book on the flight.” He nodded and followed her to the small store. He’d need something to read, too.

In the end, he settled on the latest issue of  _Popular Science_ and a book of logic puzzles. He assumed they’d be incredibly simple to solve, but on a seven hour flight, it would be nice to have something to do. He glanced over at Jemma, who was browsing a rack of bestsellers. He didn’t suppose he’d be seated beside her on the plane. He wasn’t that lucky.

Fitz waited near the entrance to the newsstand after he’d made his purchase, guarding their bags. When she approached, she was carrying two full bags with the store’s logo printed on them.

“What on earth did you do, buy out the store?” He chuckled as she flushed a little.

“It’s a long flight!” She set about tucking one of the bags into her carryon. “I couldn’t pick, so I got four books.”

“Any about monkeys?” he asked hopefully. Maybe he could nick one for the plane.

“Not this time. You’re welcome to borrow Dr. Sapolsky’s book for the flight, if you’d like.”

He grinned at her, taking hold of his suitcase to head back to the gate, but she didn’t move.

“I also, um.” She wasn’t looking him in the eye as she shifted her weight back and forth. “This is for you.” She thrust the second newsstand bag toward him, and he took it, surprised.

Opening it up, he pulled out a white t-shirt that read “I Heart London,” only instead of a heart, it featured a drawing of Big Ben. Flummoxed, he held it out in front of him, then met her eyes.

“I thought it might remind you of home.” She bit her lip and moved her hair behind her ear again. “I know you’re not from London, but I can’t imagine already having lived so far away from home for so long. I’m going to miss England so much.”

He just gaped at her as she stood there, chewing on her lower lip. It was such a thoughtful gesture, and from a girl he’d known for all of an hour. He realized belatedly that she was waiting for him to react, so he yanked the t-shirt on over his blue plaid button-down. She smiled brilliantly, and he suddenly didn’t care that he looked like a tourist. He just wanted to make her smile like that some more.

“Thanks, Jemma. It’s perfect.” He grasped the handle to his suitcase, and this time she lifted her bag too, following him back to the gate. “And you know, it’s not so bad, the U.S.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The fish and chips are shite, and they drive on the wrong side of the bloody road, but the snack food is incredible, and there are literally hundreds of American TV channels.”

She laughed as they reached their seats in the waiting area. It looked like no one had taken them while they’d been gone. “I look forward to all that telly.”

They settled in, comfortable enough around each other that her upper arm pressed against his as they sat. She pulled out one of her new books, wordlessly handing him the baboon one. They read in silence, though occasionally Fitz felt compelled to point out a fact about monkeys that the book made him remember. Oddly enough, she seemed not to mind.

Forty-five minutes later, Fitz sat stock-still, barely even breathing. She’d dozed off, head had tipped against him. He stared at the words on the page, not comprehending them, because he couldn’t help but focus on the way her cheek felt pressed against the curve of his shoulder and the way her breathing was so even. He didn't want to wake her. She looked so peaceful out of the corner of his eye.

“Attention, passengers on British Airways 213 London to Boston!”

Jemma jerked awake, lifting her head and blinking disorientedly. He cursed the blonde flight attendant in his mind for her poor sense of timing.

“Thank you for your patience. We’re about to begin boarding with Zone A. All Zone A passengers please approach the gate with your boarding passes out.”

“I’m so sorry-- I must have drifted off,” said Jemma, blushing. “I was too excited to sleep last night, so I didn’t get to bed until late.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” Fitz had been pretty excited himself. A whole summer without a proper lab had him itching for access to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s SciTech facilities.

“Where are you sitting on the plane? What zone are you?” She rummaged through the front pocket of her bag for her boarding pass and looked at the assignment.

He leaned up to pull his own out of his back pocket. “Zone D. Seat 50A.” Was he imagining it, or did she look disappointed?

“I’m in Zone C, in 39F. In the middle.”

“Guess we won’t really be able to talk on the plane.”

“Guess not.” They were silent for a moment, as the flight attendant called for Zone B to begin boarding.

“You can hang onto that book,” she said, gesturing at the book he still held in his hand. “And if you don’t finish it on the flight, maybe I can get it from you another time.”

He nodded. “I’m a pretty fast reader, though, so I’ll probably finish it. I’ll make sure to get it back to you once we land.” There, again, was that face. Was she disappointed that he was a fast reader?

The flight attendant’s shrill voice rang out, calling for Zone C to begin boarding. Jemma looked over at the gate, then back at him. “Well,” she began, standing up. “I suppose that’s me.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but wasn’t sure what to say. So he just smiled gently and nodded again.

“Have a good flight, Fitz.”

“You too, Jemma.”

She smiled back at him, wrinkling her nose, then took a deep breath and turned toward the gate. Soon she’d disappeared onto the gangway and Fitz was alone.

It was silly for him to feel sad. She was on the same flight as him, only a dozen rows apart. They were moving to the same city. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to develop much of a friendship with someone who wasn’t a fellow cadet. From what he understood, the Academy was fairly insular.

The intercom crackled, and Zone D was called. Fitz gathered his coat and his carryon and made his way to the gate, handing his smiling blonde enemy his boarding pass and shuffling through the gangway without paying much attention to anyone else.

Another flight attendant stood at the plane’s doorway, greeting each passenger cheerfully. Fitz ignored him, double checking his boarding pass and slowly making his way all the way back to 50A.

As he passed Jemma’s row, he noticed she wasn’t in it.  _Must be in the bathroom._ He’d hoped to at least exchange smiles, but it didn’t seem like it was meant to be.

He passed by Row 45. Row 46. Row 47. The man in front of him stopped short, trying to shove his enormous suitcase into the cramped overhead compartment, and Fitz sighed, aggravated. He just wanted to get to his seat and settle in, maybe read about monkeys for awhile.

Finally the man succeeded and took his seat, freeing up the aisle for Fitz to continue. He quickly arrived at Row 50 and slid his carryon into the overhead compartment above the middle section of the plane, eager to set an example and not hold up everyone else. Then he turned around toward the window to take his seat.

Smiling up at him from 50B was Jemma.

“I convinced the man who was sitting here to swap with me,” she said. He couldn’t help the grin that overtook his face. “Well? Aren’t you going to sit down?”

“Scoot over one. You can have the window,” he said. She grinned at him, unbuckling her seatbelt and sliding over. He took her vacated seat.

“These next seven hours are going to fly by!” she announced as she thumbed through the magazines in the seatback pocket in front of her.

Fitz really hoped they wouldn’t.

 

 

 

They did, of course. Between finishing the baboon book, completing nearly two thirds of his logic puzzles (they went much faster with Jemma’s help, he was pleased to find out), and another bout of Jemma using his shoulder as a pillow throughout the inflight movie, the hours felt like minutes. Fitz felt a jolt of disappointment when the pilot announced that they were approaching their final descent into Boston.

Jemma set her seat in its proper upright position and continued to flip through Fitz’s copy of  _Popular Science_.

“You know, a lot of this is just rubbish,” she noted derisively.

“I know. But it’s not as if they sell peer-reviewed journals alongside the Maxims at the airport newsstand.”

She laughed, handing his magazine back to him. “No, they certainly do not.”

The plane listed forward, and he felt a rush in his belly that wasn’t dissimilar to the way he’d felt when Jemma’s head fell onto his shoulder five minutes into the movie. The descent was smooth, and before long the plane was on the tarmac, taxiing to a gate.

Jemma unbuckled her seatbelt, shifting to face him. “I’m glad you sat next to me.”

He cocked his head at her. “You sat next to me, Jemma. You’re the one who traded seats.”

She rolled her eyes exasperatedly. “Fitz, no. I mean back at the airport. Thank you for sitting next to me… and for offering to watch my bags while I peed. Otherwise, we may never have started talking.”

He felt warm inside at her attention, and so torn because he knew soon she’d be out of his life. “Well… thank you for… having to pee.” He rolled his eyes at himself then, raising a hand to awkwardly comb through his curls, but she just laughed. Eyes locked on hers, he wondered what he could say that would make her realize how much this day had meant to him. He opened his mouth to say  _something_ , at least. Just then, the Fasten Seatbelt sign dinged, and the other passengers began to stand up and stretch.

Jemma stood up, too, stretching her arms up over her head and yawning. He let his head fall back against his seat, watching her pull her bag out from the overhead compartment and set it in her seat so she could put away her books. He suddenly worried that he might seem creepy, just watching her, but then she caught his eye and smiled and he felt like they were on the same page.

The plane ahead of them was beginning to clear out, so he stood and gathered his things, and they trudged tiredly down the aisle. Soon they had navigated their way to the gate, crossing the threshold into Logan International Airport.

“Did you check bags?” she asked, and he nodded. “This way, then.”

He followed her through the airport, not saying much. Neither was she, for that matter. He assumed she was still sleepy, despite her nap on the plane. After all, she’d said she hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before.

It was far too soon when they reached Baggage Claim, and he was disappointed to note that British Airways Flight 213’s bags had already begun to circle the conveyer belt. When he spotted his large grey suitcase, he felt tempted to let it circle a few times before picking it up, but then remembered that he did have all the notes on his latest project in there, and it was better to be safe.

“There’s mine,” said Jemma, pointing to a large brown bag. She moved toward the conveyer, but he beat her to it, grabbing her case by the handle and pulling. It was much heavier than he expected, and he almost toppled over once he’d gotten it off the belt, but he was able to set it down in front of her in tact.

“Is that all you had?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah. My mum’s shipping some other things to me later.”

“Same.”

They stood facing each other, each with a tight grip on their bags. For what seemed like the millionth time that day, Fitz didn’t know what to say. He wanted to suggest that they keep in touch, but how would that realistically work, now that his life was actually top-secret? He wasn’t even sure how often he’d be permitted to leave the Academy’s campus.

“Walk you to the cab stand?” she suggested. He followed her out of Baggage Claim into the early evening air. The sun was beginning to set, and he couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate how pretty she looked in this light.

The line for cabs was short, and they stood there chattering about nothing-- about the weather, about the Boston sports teams that neither had any interest in following. As the line became shorter, Fitz became more subdued. Finally, Jemma was next, and a cab pulled up beside her.

“Well,” she began. “Looks like this is for me.” The cab driver threw her bags into the trunk, and Fitz wanted to tell him to  _watch it._  “Fitz, I had a really lovely time today.”

“Me too.”

She grasped her hands in front of her, one thumb digging into the other palm. She looked torn. “Fitz--”

“Lady, you ready to go?”

She shot a glance at the cab driver, who leaned on the driver’s side door impatiently. “Yes, sorry!” She turned back to Fitz. “I had a lovely day.”

“Me too,” he said again.

“Lady, you’re holdin’ up the line!”

“Sorry, sorry.” She sighed, then straightened, taking a step forward and standing on her tiptoes to kiss Fitz on the cheek. When she pulled back, she was blushing a bit, and he was certain that he was, too.

“Bye, Fitz. Good luck with your career opportunity.” She climbed into the backseat of the cab.

“Good luck with university!” he called out just as she shut the door. She furrowed her brow and opened her mouth to say something, but then the cab driver threw the car into gear and pulled into traffic. All he could do was wave as she peeked out of the rear windshield, waving back.

“Your cab’s here, man,” the attendant told him, breaking his reverie. He nodded, helping the driver load his bags in and getting into the backseat.

It was only then that he realized-- he’d never given back her book.

 

 

\---

 

 

A week after arriving in Boston, Fitz sat near the back of Baxter Hall in the Hudson Building on the SciTech campus. The lecture hall was filled with eager recruits, though Fitz kept to himself, sketching on the back of one of the handouts that had been placed on every seat. He’d thought about skipping orientation, but in the end decided that the sooner he settled into the Academy, the sooner he could be in the lab.

“Welcome, cadets!” A woman stood at the podium at the front of the room, smiling at the assembled students. “My name is Anne Weaver. I’m the head of S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy’s Science and Technology Division.”

Fitz paid attention to the beginning of her speech, but as she began to go on at length about the history of S.H.I.E.L.D., he couldn’t help but zone out. He started to sketch a new version of the prototype he’d been working on, and had no idea how much time passed. He’d tuned Agent Weaver out entirely, his attention only piqued when he heard his name.

“...the two youngest cadets in the history of SciTech. Cadet Fitz, Cadet Simmons, would you please stand up?”

Fitz felt himself flush hot, completely disinterested in standing up and having a couple hundred pairs of eyes on him. He did it anyway, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, grimacing.

Near the front of the room on the opposite side, he saw another cadet stand up, her back to him and her brunette hair in a ponytail. She turned, presumably to locate the cadet who was being acknowledged alongside her. Their eyes met almost immediately.

Fitz’s mouth opened and his stomach dropped. It was her. Cadet Simmons was Jemma.

For her part, her eyes widened, and she breathed out a surprised puff of air, face lighting up. Fitz’s breath quickened as Agent Weaver continued to speak.

“If I were you, I’d watch out for these two. Between Cadet Fitz's PhD in Mechanical Engineering and Cadet Simmons' dual-PhDs in Molecular Biology and Organic Chemistry, this is the pair who will be wrecking the curve.”

Weaver moved on, and Fitz and Simmons both took their seats. She tossed him another look over her shoulder, smiling brightly. Instead of flooding him with warmth, though, this time it made his heart sink.

He’d known there was another cadet starting at SciTech who was even younger than him. He’d known that he or she was probably brilliant, maybe even moreso than he was. He’d also known that Jemma--  _Simmons_ , he supposed he’d be calling her now-- was warm, and kind, and beautiful.

What he hadn’t expected was for all those facts to describe the same person.

Jemma Simmons was officially the youngest cadet in SciTech history. She had twice the PhDs he had, and in subjects that he didn’t excel in, for that matter. And he had gone on and on to her about  _monkeys_. And he’d thanked her for having to pee, for Christ’s sake! How would she ever think of him as anything other than the idiot who loved monkeys and talked about her urinary habits?

He slumped in his seat, ducking behind the students in the row in front of him so she couldn’t make eye contact with him anymore. The rest of orientation passed in a blur. All he could think about was what an idiot he was. How much of a fool of himself he’d made in front of possibly the smartest person he’d ever met.

As soon as Agent Weaver concluded her presentation, he jumped out of his seat, hoping to rush back to his dorm and focus on perfecting his new prototype until his embarrassment abated.

She cut him off before he exited the hall, though, somehow faster than him, too.

“Fitz! I can’t believe it! Why didn’t you tell me you were a S.H.I.E.L.D. recruit?” He just stood there, staring at her lamely, as she continued. “Well, of course, for the same reason I couldn’t tell you. Level One clearance only, and all that.” With a proud grin, she thumbed the newly-printed badge on a lanyard around her neck. “Are you so thrilled to be here? I’m so thrilled to be here. After all, this is the school that Peggy Carter built! Well, not literally, of course, but she did have a hand in--” She laughed, smoothing her hands over the sides of her blouse. “I’m sorry. I’m rambling. I’m just so glad to be here. And-- and I’m really glad you’re here, too.”

He’d felt paralyzed the whole time she’d spoken. All he could think about was how dumb she likely thought him to be. Her assurance did warm him a bit, but then he remembered how he’d wished her success at university as her cab had pulled away, and he felt like an idiot ten times over.

“Sorry, Simmons, I have to go,” he said, marveling at the fact that he could even get words out. He winced, sparing her one last glance before sidestepping her and exiting the lecture hall.

He knew it was rude, but somehow, her thinking him rude felt better than her thinking him stupid.

 

 

 

Back in his dorm, Fitz paced in front of his desk. He rubbed his still-warm face, and ran a hand through his hair. He knew that he had to make it up to her, to let her know that he was indeed glad to see her-- so glad.

He just needed to come up with something to say to her, the perfect thing that would make her stop thinking about how dumb he must have sounded at the airport and on the plane. He just had to think of something smart enough for her to notice that he was intelligent and interesting, after all. If he could do that, he knew they would get on well.

They had to. She may have been the smartest person he’d ever met, and she was certainly the first girl his age he’d been able to talk to with so much comfort and ease. He wasn’t sure when he’d meet someone else like her. If he ever would.

Determination was beginning to replace his embarrassment, but at the moment, he just felt like he could use a nap. Then he could awake refreshed and ready to brainstorm ideas.

Fitz unbuttoned and removed his shirt, tossing it onto his desk chair. He was about to fall back on his bed when he thought of something. He turned to his dresser, which he’d filled with the clothes he’d finally unpacked the day before, and pulled something from the bottom drawer. As he tugged the I “Big Ben” London t-shirt over his head, he vowed that he’d think of something to say that would impress her tomorrow, and curled up on his bed, clutching his pillow to his chest.

He just hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Want to chat on Tumblr? I'm unbreakablejemmasimmons over there!


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